A Page in the Grand Book

This is one of my favorite stories and I first heard it from Kenny years ago. For those of us
who try to pass judgment on life with only one day’s evidence, the message is profound. I
hope that it will remind you, as it did me, that patience is the greater courage.
Once there was an old man who lived in a tiny village. Although poor, he was envied by
all, for he owned a beautiful white horse. Even the king coveted his treasure. A horse like
this had never been seen before – such was its splendor, its majesty, its strength.
People offered fabulous prices for the steed, but the old man always refused. “This horse
is not a horse to me,” he would tell them. “It is a person. He is a friend, not a
possession. How could you sell a friend.” The man was poor and the temptation was
great. But he never sold the horse.
One morning he found that the horse was not in his stable. All the village came to see
him. “You old fool,” they scoffed, “we told you that someone would steal your horse. You
are so poor. How could you ever protect such a valuable animal? It would have been
better to have sold him. You could have gotten whatever price you wanted. Now the
horse is gone and you’ve been cursed with misfortune.”
The old man responded, “Don’t speak too quickly. Say only that the horse is not in the
stable. That is all we know; the rest is judgment. If I’ve been cursed or not, how can you
know? How can you judge?” The people contested, “Don’t make us out to be fools! The
simple fact that your horse is gone is a curse.”
The old man spoke again. “All I know is that the stable is empty, and the horse is
gone. The rest I don’t know. Whether it be a curse or a blessing, I can’t say. Who can
say what will come next?”
The people of the village laughed. They had always thought he was a fool; if he wasn’t,
he would have sold the horse and lived off the money. But instead, he was a poor
woodcutter, and he lived hand to mouth in the misery of poverty. Now he had proven that
he was, indeed, a fool.
After fifteen days, the horse returned. He hadn’t been stolen; he had run away into the
forest. Not only had he returned, he had brought a dozen wild horses with him. Once
again, the village people gathered around the woodcutter and spoke. “Old man, you were
right and we were wrong. What we thought was a curse was a blessing. Please forgive
us.”
The man responded, “Once again, you go too far. Say only that the horse is back. State
only that a dozen horses returned with him, but don’t judge. How do you know if this is a
blessing or not? You see only a fragment. Unless you know the whole story, how can
you judge? You read only one page of a book. Can you judge the whole book?
“Life is so vast, yet you judge all of life with one page. All you have is one fragment! Don’t
say that this is a blessing. No one knows. I am content with what I know. I am not
perturbed by what I don’t.”
“Maybe the old man is right,” they said to one another. So they said little. But down deep,
they knew he was wrong. They knew it was a blessing. Twelve wild horses had
returned. With a little work, the animals could be broken and trained and sold for much
money.
The old man had an only son. The young man began to break the wild horses. After a
few days, he fell from one of the horses and broke both legs. Once again the villagers
gathered around and cast their judgments. “You were right,” they said. “You proved you
were right. The dozen horses were not a blessing. They were a curse. Your only son
has broken both his legs, and now in your old age you have no one to help you. Now you
are poorer than ever.”
The old man spoke again. “You people are obsessed with judging. Don’t go so far. Say
only that my son broke his legs. Who knows if it is a blessing or a curse? No one
knows. Life comes in fragments.”
It so happened that a few weeks later the country engaged in war against a neighboring
country. All the young men of the village were required to join the army. Only the son of
the old man was excluded, because he was injured. Once again the people gathered
around the old man, crying and screaming because their sons had been taken. There
was little chance that they would return. The enemy was strong, and the war would be a
losing struggle. They would never see their sons again.
“You were right, old man,” They wept. “God knows you were right. This proves it. Your
son’s accident was a blessing. His legs may be broken, but at least he is with you. Our
sons are gone forever.”
The old man spoke again. “It is impossible to talk with you. You always draw
conclusions. No one knows. Say only this. Your sons had to go to war, and mine did
not. No one knows if it is a blessing or a curse. No one is wise enough to know. Only
God knows.”
We can learn from the old man. Life’s difficult times are only a page out of a grand book.
We must be slow about drawing conclusions. We must reserve judgment on life’s storms
until we know the whole story.